


Until the Sky Goes Dark

by AboutBatman (MistyDawn)



Series: Justice League Dark: Apokolips War [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Cyborg (DCU Comics), Justice League - All Media Types, Justice League Dark: Apokolips War (2020)
Genre: Angst, Batman - Freeform, Cyborg (DC character), Cyborgs, Everything is bad and happy endings don't exist, Gen, However Victor does get to say Booyah, Implied/Referenced Mind Control, Implied/Referenced Torture, Justice League Dark: Apokolips War - Freeform, Mind Manipulation, Missing Scene, no beta we die like illiterate fools
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:01:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24370249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistyDawn/pseuds/AboutBatman
Summary: He is Victor Stone, he is a human from Earth. He…he is on the Justice League. He is Cyborg. He is—“Yes.” Granny croons. “You are a cyborg. Made for the sole purpose of serving our divine master.” The current spikes, racing through whatever parts of him are left. “You are to obey him in all regards. You are to serve him and give your utmost respect to our Lord.”An alternative view of events from Victor Stone's (Cyborg) point of view.
Relationships: Victor Stone & Bruce Wayne, Victor Stone/Bruce Wayne (if you squint)
Series: Justice League Dark: Apokolips War [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1861351
Comments: 6
Kudos: 26





	Until the Sky Goes Dark

**Author's Note:**

> Well here we are. I started writing this right after watching the movie and then it sat unfinished for weeks lol.
> 
> I saw that Batman spent most of his time in the throne room, and that Cyborg was embedded into the wall nearby, so they were kinda together for most of their little stint into servitude. I thought it would be cool to write a fic from Victor's pov and explore the relationship between him and Bruce in this context. 
> 
> Hope ya'll enjoy!
> 
> **Trigger Warning for torture**

Nononononono—

He is Victor Stone, he is a human from Earth. He…he is on the Justice League. He is Cyborg. He is—

“Yes.” Granny croons. “You are a cyborg. Made for the sole purpose of serving our divine master.” The current spikes, racing through whatever parts of him are left. “You are to obey him in all regards. You are to serve him and give your utmost respect to our Lord.”

He’s dizzy on pain. It clouds his mind, and the non-organic parts of him fail to keep up with the overload of senses. Distantly, he thinks he can smell seared flesh, but he can’t tell if it’s him. The pain is too great. He feels as if every nerve ending is frayed and on fire.

Granny turns the power up. “You are Cyborg. Your Lord Darkseid has blessed you with Apokoliptian technology so you may serve him to your fullest ability.”

Someone is screaming and the putrid stench of burning flesh fills his nose.

Granny Goodness smiles sweetly. “Tell me my boy, who are you and who do you serve?”

He is—

He does not know. The pain rips at his mind, scoring it deeply with its sharp claws. Dread pools in his chest as he feels the Apokoliptian code creeping into his body and overriding everything that made him, _him._ He knows he has taken too long without answering when Granny tuts and turns back to the machine to crank the electrical current higher.

* * *

Time is a fleeting thing, he decides. It moves slowly like molasses, then in the blink of an eye, it can skip forward like a scratched CD.

Someone is screaming again.

It takes a moment for him to realise it’s not him. In fact, if he listens closely with his organic ear, he can hear another sound. He strains his hearing; the metal parts of him are inactive and lay heavy against his weakened flesh, but his human parts still work well enough to hear the crying.

His body is laying on a cold metal slab. He musters up whatever strength he has left to twist his head to the side to see the huddle of people on the other side of the room. Darkseid cuts an imposing figure, he dwarves the others; a man strapped into one of the torture chambers and another one chained and kneeling close by.

Granny is there too. She must have stopped torturing him to watch the show.

His mind is sluggish, and it takes a few moments for the faces to register as Batman and Superman. Granny shifts to the left to un-obscure Superman’s chest from his view. It glows a sickly green, straight lines criss-cross his skin to form a mocking house of El sigil, and dark green veins climb his pale skin like creeping vines. He briefly wonders if he would feel nauseous if he still had a stomach.

The torture chamber lights up again and Batman screams, Clark shifts in his chains, straining forward as if to try and stop his friends suffering. There are tears on his face.

Darkseid circles them both, arms behind his back and a smirk on his face. “You have children don’t you Batman?” Silence. “Answer me.”

More silence. The electricity dances over Bruce’s pained form again.

“Yes,” he pants.

Darkseid comes to stand directly between the two heroes, blocking each other from view. “The eldest, what was his name? Nightman?” He asks the question slowly, as if tasting the mocking words on his tongue.

Bruce’s head hangs low, in fact his entire body sags, held up only by the restraints around his wrists. His voice is hoarse when he speaks, “Nightwing?” The cowl is down, so the pain induced haze of confusion is plain on his face when he looks up. “Where is he?”

The angle of view is limited, so he can only see Darkseid’s shaking shoulders as he laughs. “He is dead.”

Bruce makes a broken sound, as if he is an injured animal.

“I killed him.”

A ‘no’ rips itself from Bruce’s throat. It’s long and drawn out, and for a moment he is reminded of the time he had witnessed a mother pull the corpse of her child from the rubble of a destroyed building.

“It was your fault.”

Bruce is outright begging now, shaking his head in denial as words fall from his lips. “No no no, please, I didn’t mean for this—"

“Had your little team not attacked me, he would still be alive.”

“Bruce please you have to keep fighting—" Darkseid interrupts Superman by backhanding him. Clark slumps sideways, not recovering from the hit.

Bruce’s sobs are cut off by a spike of electricity that shoots through his nerves. He turns his head, and for a second, they make direct eye contact. He can see the pain, the utter despair in the others features, but worst of all he can see the resignation. He wonders what Bruce can see in him.

Granny turns away and walks back to him. Behind her, the show continues on. “Well my dear let’s not idle with you any longer.” With a wide smile she activates the flow of electricity over his broken body.

“Who are you and who do you serve?”

* * *

He is in the wall. But not really.

He is in the system. He _is_ the system.

The advanced electrical circuits and wires merge perfectly with his body. The paradooms ripped him to shreds, but Lord Darkseid has made him whole again. Lord Darkseid has healed his broken body. Healed his broken mind.

He is in the system. He _is_ the system.

He is in the wall. But not really.

He is every electrical current running through the core of the planet. He has eyes but he does not see. He has sensors, they cover every part of the planet, feeding pure data into his mind. He can see everything all at once. _Feel_ everything all at once.

Lord Darkseid’s servants scurry underground. They are like masses of ants, writhing in the subterranean, marching like soldiers to repair damage and serve their master.

The generator is broken, and he aches for it. A beautiful piece of machinery, Lord Darkseid’s machinery, and it is destroyed.

He is in the system. He _is_ the system.

He is in the wall. But not really.

* * *

He is Cyborg. He is the source wall.

He is a loyal servant of Darkseid.

Lord Darkseid stands before him, shoulders straight and arms crossed behind his back as he appraises his new possession. The throne room stretches out behind him, a large empty hall, save for the heavy metal chair set into the dais at the head of the room.

“You know you were instrumental in my victory over your Justice League.” Darkseid pauses. “How does that make you feel?”

His reply is instant. “I am overjoyed to have served my master. I live to fulfil your wishes. All hail Lord Darkseid.” When he speaks it is like a thousand voices grating over each other as one. It is like he speaks for the entire planet, for all the little slaves that scurry to and fro.

Darkseid stares a moment longer, then his lips twist in satisfaction.

* * *

“Activate them.” Granny’s order is curt.

“COMMAND: REPURPOSE ORGANIC MATERIAL”

He is in the throne room. They both are, and their Lord sits still and spread out on his throne.

He is embedded in the throne room, but he is the source wall and his reach extends far. Eight levels below them, machinery activates. Scalpels pierce torn flesh, nanites flood empty veins and metal limbs are drilled, then bolted into patchwork bodies.

“Good,” Granny says. “Take control.”

“COMMAND: INITIATE OVERSIGHT PROGRAMME”

He feels them the moment they activate. He _is_ them the moment they activate. Every movement, every breath they take is controlled by him.

Hawkman, Wonder Woman, Starfire, Martian Manhunter and Mera of Atlantis. They had been in pieces, ripped apart by Darkseid’s forces. But he had put them back together. He had saved them from death so that they could fulfil their true purpose and serve Lord Darkseid.

“Show me how they fight.” The command echoes across the room as his master relays the order. He pulls up a holo-screen to display the new soldiers, in seconds they are moving, weapons and new limbs clashing against paradoom armour. Lord Darkseid leans forward in his chair and watches intently.

Granny turns back to him and smiles, “Cyborgs, just like you.” Her smile is wide and shows off too many teeth. “Isn’t that wonderful?”

* * *

Data streams across his senses.

Diagnostics and system reports clog his mind, demanding attention and management. He is the source wall of Apokolips. He runs the planet, from the mile-long power cells, to the smallest circuits deep in the planet’s dark core.

There is an overlay of two images in his mind, a war between the system and the human biology. He blinks his organic eye once, it takes effort, more effort than using the large mechanical arms in the paradoom laboratories to move the evolution pods. His consciousness returns to whatever is left of his deconstructed body, and he finds his master walking towards him.

He pushes his planetary duties aside and focuses his full concentration on the God before him. “All hail Lord Darkseid. How may I be of service?”

His Lord speaks, a strong rumble that reverberates through the hall, “This is Batman.” He gestures toward a black clad man beside him. “He has proven his loyalty to me and will be filling his role as my inter-planetary confidant.”

The sensors in the room sweep over the smaller man and they list detailed biometrics; a human male from a recently conquered planet named Earth. The armour he wears is odd, a black mix of Apokoliptian weave and metal, interlaced with webs of red smart-fluid that loops around the costume to form the Omega sigil of Darkseid on the man’s belt. A dark cape sweeps from Batman's shoulders to the floor, and two devil-like horns point towards the ceiling from where they sit high on his cowl.

Something tugs at his memory but there is not enough human brain matter left for the wisps of thought to take shape.

“Retrieve the mobius chair from storage and see to it that Batman has full access to the systems.” Darkseid turns and walks away with not so much as a glance back to them.

“Yes master.” The boom tube opens with a bang and the mobius chair hovers out. It is sleek and silver, and it sings with an energy that is so similar to Apokolips, yet so different. “Please be seated and the integration process will begin.”

The Batman stares silently at him for a moment, looking out through blank white lenses, before smoothly walking up the steps of the chair. He sits obediently and waits for Cyborg to make the next move.

“COMMAND: INTEGRATION OF DESIGNATION ~BATMAN~.”

He is the source wall. He controls the planet at the whims of his Lord. He opens the link and Batman comes flooding in. It is different from the others. He controls the furies as if they are an extension of himself, but this is different, Batman slots in alongside him as if he were always supposed to be there. The control matrices change and flow around them both, as if they were the island splitting the stream.

He is in the system. He _is_ the system.

They are the system.

He is in the wall. He is a machine, a cyborg, and his one purpose is to serve Lord Darkseid. The integration completes and he feels as if a breath has been let go, as if he had been holding it in his non-existent lungs. He briefly wonders how he knows the feeling.

His sensors whirl and the data feed continues onward. There is more this time, more than just the planet and its machinery. There is Batman. His biometrics are a steady hum at the back of Cyborg’s mind, they pulse in time with the human’s heartbeat to create a soothing rhythm. It is at odds with Apokolips. The planet suddenly seems too harsh, too unpleasant. Magma pulses flame out from the ground in discordant clashes, paradooms screech as they rip each other apart, it is rough and hard, and it is unlike the calm that the human brings.

A light flashes on the Batman’s gauntlet, Darkseid is bidding him to attend to his duties. Without preamble the human splays his fingers over the control panel on the mobius chair, it flairs to life under its new master touch, and then its moving out and away from Cyborg.

He is the source wall of Apokolips. Diagnostics and system reports clog his mind, demanding attention and management. Data streams across his senses, and Batman’s heart drums a steady rhythm; a testament to life on this barren planet.

* * *

“Send the first magma drill to Earth. Report to me when your task has been completed.” Darkseid leaves them in silence.

Batman taps at his data panel, readying the planetary drill for deployment. He hesitates. Batman looks at him.

¦ANOMALY DETECTED¦

Normally Batman does not look at him. But Batman is looking at him. He looks back. Tension in the shoulders, the slightest hesitation of gloved fingers over a keypad.

Bruce looks at him.

¦ERROR ERROR ER—

* * *

He looks to Batman, but Batman is not there. The mobius chair stands still and empty to the side of Lord Darkseid’s throne. He pulls his sensors up and concentrates on the entire planet.

There.

His heartbeat is quick, each thump like the stuttering beat of a drum pounding in Cyborg’s data feeds. Deep in the twisting halls of the citadel Batman is screaming. He is locked in the torture chamber, his body arching as pure electricity wracks over his nerves.

He screams and he screams, and he screams and he-

He says, “Glory to Darkseid.”

Somewhere deep in the twisting halls of the citadel, Granny smiles.

* * *

¦INTRUDER ALERT¦

¦INTRUDER ALERT¦

¦INTRUDER ALERT¦

“None can resist Lord Darkseid.”

They are across from his resting place in the wall. The intruders, the lecherous betrayers that seek to do harm to his Lord.

“Hail Lord Darkseid. I am the source wall.” They stare at him, a mix of disgust and surprise on their faces. “Lord Darkseid has ordered you be taken alive so he may personally see to your punishment.”

A familiar looking human steps forward. He is blond and wears a dirty brown overcoat, but Cyborg does not have time to look for information on him in the databases, because the man is already speaking in a strange accent. “Alright mate, just stop saying Darkseid.”

The man raises a hand and a bright gold circle forms in the air. Cyborg has a moment where his sensors go wild, relaying the use of magic, before the circle brightens and the pain starts. “I must alert Lord Darkseid.” He tries, but it is like the man has cut through his neural link to the planet. Everything is not where it should be, it sparks and fizzles, and the control trickles from his grasp like sand through fingers. “What is happening? I must— “

“Just debugging ya. Hold still.”

The pain erupts over his mind, it is like he is back with Granny, back in her dark little dungeon where he only knew the feel of electricity over his nerves and the sound of his own screams. “Lord Darkseid.” Pain rushing in like a wave. “Lord Darkseid.” It engulfs him, drowns him in its very presence. “Lord Darkseid!”

“This is gonna hurt,” the golden-haired man says and then the pain rushes back, tearing a final scream from his throat.

The magic recedes and for the first time in years Victor can think clearly.

* * *

“Okay the bus is leaving, there’ll be no better time.”

One-by-one his friends and teammates run through the boom tube. Constantine and Diana stop on its cusp. “Victor?”

It’s strange not having a body. He’d lost it once before, the accident that had turned him into Cyborg had taken it from him, and yet it had offered him so much more. It had given him a new chance to change. It had given him friends, and a team, and a purpose in life. This new situation was another chance. Another opportunity that allowed him to save others.

“I can’t come.”

“Download your consciousness into a mother-cube or whatnot.”

He huffed a laugh, “It doesn’t work like that genius. Now leave before these assholes realise they’ll be trapped here forever.”

There is gratitude in their eyes as they turn to leave; an understanding between them, that they would do the same for him. “Cheers.”

Raven and Robin link hands and step through the portal, then it’s just him and Bruce left staring at each other.

Batman reaches up and pulls down the cowl to reveal his face. It’s the first time he has seen Bruce without the mask since the beginning. “Victor I..I—" He stutters to a stop, voice thick and throat bobbing.

“Come on B, don’t be like that.” When Bruce had broken free, he had been filled with joy. There had been hope then, that at least one of them would escape from this wretched planet. “Go. Please. Be safe. Be free.”

A tear slides down Bruce’s cheek. He swallows and puts the cowl back up. “Thank you,” he says, and then he’s stepping through the portal. It closes with a bing and Batman’s biometrics go silent as the signal to the suit cuts off. For the first time in two years, Victor feels truly alone.

He is not the source wall.

He is Cyborg. He is Victor Stone.

“Looks like I get the last word.” He glances at the two fighting overlords above him and grins.

“Booyah bitches!”

**Author's Note:**

> Come see me on my Tumblr [aboutbatman!](https://aboutbatman.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Thanks for reading! All comments and kudos are appreciated!


End file.
